by Paula Mabbel
He was also very married.
Many years have passed, and they were not the same people they were then. They'd hurt each other in ways they would never have imagined.
But always they pushed on and got through it.
He was silent when she told him she was pregnant. The expression on his face didn’t even change. She looked at him nervously for a few moments and then said, "Alex, I swear it's your baby," her voice cracking.
It nearly broke his heart that she felt she had to say that. On some level, he needed to hear it.
Where had the bump come from?
It was almost like it appeared out of the blue for Alex. He thought maybe he just wasn’t paying attention this whole time.
She had on a gray dress. Alex had gotten home from a business trip. He originally said he wouldn't travel while she was carrying, but after awhile he had to get away.
She tiptoed around him these days, and so she was hesitant to even hug him when he came through the door. It started out as a routine hi-honey-I'm-home hug. But then she was squeezing him tighter, and she felt incredible in his arms, her rounded belly pressed up against him. He felt a warmth toward her that he hadn't felt in a long time.
And he kissed her.
But he meant it this time.
It wasn't some routine honey-I'm-home peck on the lips or cheek.
She blushed or at least he thought she did.
And then she went back to the dusting and general straightening she was doing. She wasn't always such an avid cleaner. Profuse house cleaning was a habit she adopted only in the past year or so. It was a way for her to remain busy and not pay attention to the fact that they weren't really talking.
Alex got himself situated, settled in.
Danielle was dusting the lampshades, every now and then looking up and giving him a nervous smile.
He felt a pang of guilt.
His wife was actually expecting him to snap at her about something or otherwise ignore her. Her back was toward him. His eyes traveled down her frame. She wore pregnancy extremely well, he thought as a smile came to his lips. Her already ample hips were decidedly more so, smooth and round.
She turned around, looked at him. She seemed somewhat startled by his smile, or maybe she was surprised. She blushed and smiled back.
He walked toward her and brushed his hands over her hair lightly. She jumped slightly, and he put my hand on her swelling waist to steady her.
“How had we gotten here?” He wondered, “To the point where we can't even touch each other without feeling weird?”
*****
He hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they did.
But then again, isn’t that what everyone says when they’re caught?
She was a colleague’s widow. She had taken over a lot of his affairs and was met with many disturbed and scandalized whispers from most of the other men in the organization.
She knew what was being said about her, but she ignored it. It didn’t seem to bother her any and she dismissed many a well-meaning offer to “take care” of her late husband’s business for her so that she could “relax and focus on other things.”
She smiled; she was always courteous. She thanked whoever it was that was patronizing her this time and politely declined the offer.
It made Alex smile, and though he’d never admit it out loud, but he was attracted to her determined spirit.
It was the same spunk that had first attracted him to his wife.
It was after they’d met for a business deal that he knew he was in trouble. She clearly knew how to handle herself, and he was drawn to that.
She was drawn to him too, it seemed, and she lingered after the other men had left.
They talked for a little and then all of a sudden had stopped talking.
“Does you wife do it like this?” she had asked when he had her up against the wall.
He’d gotten angry and told her that if they were going to have this affair, that she was never to disrespect his wife again.
She apologized, and they continued to sleep together whenever they had the chance.
Three months went by before Alex began to feel guilty.
Or maybe he was just beginning to tire of his mistress.
Either way, he broke it off with her. He went to her house when he was sure she’d be alone, and he told her they couldn’t see one another anymore.
She seemed fine with it, and each of them promised to take their little secret with them to the grave.
But she was a good actress. She hadn’t really let things go.
Alex came home from work the next day to find Danielle lying on the couch, crying her eyes out.
His stomach immediately sank, and he’d never felt so low in his life.
The widow, of course, had called and told her everything, even furnished evidence of their affair.
Alex slept on the couch that night.
After a long and tearful conversation the next day, Danielle promised she would try to get past it all.
But that was much easier said than done.
Alex knew this because he couldn’t get past it when Danielle did it to him.
~
All of a sudden, Danielle had lots to do in the city.
She was “running errands” every other day it seemed.
But it wasn’t just about her being out of the house more.
It was her clothes, and how they gradually became younger and more form fitting.
It was her perfume, the fact that had changed or even that she was wearing any at all.
It was her mood, where it was once angry and brooding, even months after finding out about the affair, now there was a certain levity in the way she carried herself.
Alex could feel it in his gut, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
Not until they day he peered at her through the barely-open bathroom door as she stepped out of the shower. There was a mark on her upper thigh.
One he was certain he didn’t put there.
“I want you to follow her,” Alex said to the most dedicated and loyal of his guys. “Find out where she’s going, what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with. Do not let her see you. Understood?”
The man, Igor, gave a quick nod to show that he understood.
“And keep this quiet,” added Alex. The last thing he needed was people getting word of any troubles he might be having at home. In his line of work, it was suicide to expose your weaknesses. There were always more than a few people who would be more than happy to jump on the opportunity to exploit them.
Alex grabbed the half empty bottle of vodka from the cabinet under his desk. He poured a generous glass and downed it in one gulp. Then he downed some more, straight from the bottle this time. He didn’t even bother pouring it into a glass.
The vodka was supposed to calm him down. Instead, it made him angrier. He could feel the heat rising from deep down in his belly and spiraling up through his throat and to his head. It wasn’t the alcohol. He’s been drinking vodka since he was a kid, and it had never affected him in this way.
Wait until you know, he said to himself in an effort to calm down. Wait until you know for sure.
A week later, Igor came quietly into Alex’s office. Without a word, he dropped a thick, letter-sized envelope onto his desk.
Alex hesitated a split second before picking up the envelope and opening it. Inside was a two-inch stack of photographs. He looked through them quietly, his heart rate increasing with each photo.
“She meets him in the city,” said Igor matter-of-factly. “They don’t communicate much by phone. Each time they see each other, they choose the time and place of their next meeting. They meet someplace public; the green market, the library, a movie theater. They walk around, talk sometimes. They almost always end up in a hotel. Every now and then they go to his place.”
Alex felt the bile rising in his throat. It wasn’t that his wife was seeing another man. Indeed, he had barely looked at the
man in the pictures. It was her face that bothered him so deeply, her expressions.
He hadn’t seen her so happy in a very long time.
“And his information?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Written on the back of the last photo. That’s where he works. Shall I pay him a visit?”
Alex looked up. “No,” he said. “I’ll do it myself.”
“I'll go with you.”
“No,” Alex repeated. “You’ve done well. But I’ll go alone.”
*****
Alex walked into the building and past the front desk without checking in, even after the receptionist began to call after him. He kept moving forward until he was on the elevator heading to the 11th floor.
When he arrived at the 11th floor, he made a left and walked to the end of the corridor. He paused outside the last door on the right and then turned the knob.
A young man with a shaved head and glasses was sitting alone at a desk in the middle of the room. He looked up when Alex entered, clearly confused.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “Do you have an appointment?”
Alex didn’t answer him; he just stood there and stared at him for the longest time.
“Can I help you?” the man repeated, getting annoyed now.
“You Travis?” asked Alex pointedly when he finally decided to speak. The question was somewhat rhetorical. He knew exactly to whom he was speaking.
“Yes,” answered Travis, confusion and annoyance clearly registering on his face. “Do I know you?” He stood now and walked around the desk until he was standing face to face with Alex.
“Are you fucking my wife?”
For a long time, Travis said nothing. Then he smiled a slow smile. “You must be Alexei.”
“Are you fucking my wife?” Alex repeated. He hadn’t come here for small talk.
Travis looked down at his watch. “Not tonight.” His smile deepened.
So the man wanted to be funny, huh?
Alex reached into his coat pocket and with a quick flick of his wrist held a seven-inch blade a mere inch from the man’s neck. “Make another joke and I will open you up,” he said.
Travis stopped smiling.
Just then the door opened behind them, and Alex heard a gasp. He kept his eyes on Travis however and lowered the blade.
“Come in,” said Travis. “I was just getting acquainted with your husband.”
Alex turned his head slightly, and sure enough, there was Danielle standing in the doorway, jaw hanging open. All color drained from her face when she saw Alex but still, she took a tiny step forward.
“Stop there,” said Alex. “Turn around. We’re leaving.”
He put the knife back into his pocket and said to Travis through clenched teeth, “Consider this a courtesy call. Stay away from my wife.”
Travis gave a nod and the Alex turned for the door. He grabbed Danielle by her arm and practically dragged her out of the office and down to the car.
~
"Why?" he asked her when they got back to the house. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so loudly, but there it was.
And he knew why. He wanted to hear her say it. That was all.
"I could ask you the same thing," was all she said.
Alex tried to calm down, tried taking a deep breath, tried biting his tongue before he spoke it was no use. All he saw was red. Still, he kept his voice low and his tone even. "I apologized for that."
Danielle stood and walked over to him. She must have had little clue as to how close he was to losing his cool.
Or maybe she did. And she wanted to push him, to destroy him the way he’d certainly destroyed her.
"What can I do with that?" she asked contempt flashing in her brown eyes. "An apology? Your apology doesn't mean shit to me," she spat.
Alex leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. "I thought we were supposed to be moving past this."
"Easy for you to say."
"So why then? Because you wanted revenge?"
She laughed at this. "You really are a piece of work. If I wanted revenge don't you think I would have worked harder to make sure you found out?"
In all the years he’d been married to her, in all the years he’d known her, he could never once recall wanting to hit her.
But he wanted to know. More than anything.
He balled his hand into a fist and then released it. Looking down rather than at her he asked again, "Why?" It came out as a hoarse whisper.
"Because," she started. "I wanted to feel something." Her voice broke. Alex looked up and was startled to find tears rolling down her cheeks. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him. "I wanted to feel anything," she continued. "Anything other than the constant pain I’ve been feeling."
Alex sighed. He didn’t know what to say to that.
~
He told her to end it. That she’d had her fun. That they’d evened the score.
She would end it, and they would forget about it and move on.
But things were seldom ever that simple.
“Come in,” said Alex to the knocking on the door.
It was Vlad, another one of his lieutenants. The tall, burly man entered the room wordlessly, as was his custom.
He stood in the corner and waiting for Alex to address him.
“You have news for me?”
Vlad began to make his standard reports. Then he paused in a way Alex couldn't remember him ever doing before.
“There's something else, isn't there?”
Vlad nodded.
From the look on the man’s face, this wasn't going to be welcome news. Alex let out a heavy sigh. “What is it? Go on. Tell me.”
He coughed and looked suddenly very uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to know where to begin. He took a deep breath and then said finally “There's been talk.”
Alex sat up, suddenly very interested in what Vlad had to say. “Talk? What sort of talk?”
“Some of the men...there's been gossip.”
Alex’s jaw tightened.
“About?”
“About your wife, sir.”
“What’s being said?”
Vladimir coughed again, as if that would somehow make the words easier to hear. “They're saying that she's taken a lover.”
Alex struggled to keep his response measured. “I see. And are they merely speculating? Or presenting this as fact?”
“It’s gossip, sir. No one seems to know anything for sure. Just whispers. They say you know about it. That you let it happen. And that you won't do anything about it.”
After a minute, Alex nodded. “Thank you, Vladimir. You may go.”
Vlad nodded and left the room as quietly as he’d entered it.
The second the door clicked shut, Alex picked up the phone. Igor was the only one he could trust with so delicate an operation, so it was him that he called.
An hour later, his phone rang.
“She's still seeing him,” he said. “She’s at his house now.”
Alex scribbled down the address and then grabbed his coat and left.
Alex puzzled over the situation in the car. Things were worse than he’d initially thought. This could be more than a fling. More than a revenge fuck. A revenge fuck, he could understand.
Understand, but not condone.
He wasn't going to just stand by and let this affair happen. But he wondered if something more was going on. Was his wife in love? That scared him even more.
He hesitated before getting out of the car. This confrontation had the potential to go very wrong.
He got out of the car, entered the building, went up one flight of stairs and then knocked on the first door on the right.
He could swear he heard voices and shuffling inside, but after a minute or two there was still no answer.
He knocked again, more insistently this time. He was through being understanding. He was through being diplomatic. “Open up. I know you're in there.”
A minute later,
the door opens a crack. Travis peered through the crack. He was topless, his brown skin wearing a sheen as though he’d just been working out. He didn't say a word.